Not Good Enough for Truth or Cliche
by jaydream
Summary: *Tim slammed into a brick wall he didn't want to hit again. He would never be good enough.* AngstTimmy/Anorexia mentioning/McNozzo


**Well it's 2:37AM here in NY and I'm awake writing this oneshot. Why? Because I'm a total McGee and this won't leave my brain until I write it. So here it is.**

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**Title: **_Not Good Enough for Truth or Cliche_

**Genre: **_Drama/Angst_

**Rating: **_T strictly_

**Characters: **_Timothy McGee_

**Characters Mentioned:**_ Anthony DiNozzo and Abby Scuito_

**Pairing:**_ McNozzo respecitvely_

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**Not Good Enough for Truth or Cliche**

Timothy McGee laid on his back staring up at the ceiling. The apartment was filled with complete silence and it made him feel even more lonely and hurt. Because there was nobody there to help him, or comfort. Yet, that was his own fault and doing. Because he kept secrets. Because he didn't want anybody to know. Least of all Abby or Tony.

Even though Abby was his best friend, this was something Tim knew he couldn't tell her. She'd run to someone and tell. Then what would happen? Tim could only imagine the unravelling mess that would come if that happened. Yet, he knew that not telling could unravel a bigger mess. It was a complicated demise.

Closing his eyes, he felt a painful, deep hunger pang run through his stomach. He suddenly felt nauseous, but that didn't matter. There wouldn't be anything to vomit up, anyway. He hadn't eaten in three days...and he felt good about it. He didn't want to eat. He didn't want to look the way he used to. He didn't want Tony to point out his chubbiness anymore. Tony wouldn't be able to anymore. That alone felt great. He'd suffer for attention and for the chance at Tony's love and appreciation. He'd suffer anything to get Tony to notice him.

His belly growled loudly, making it more painful. Tim squeeze his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. He chose to ignore what was coursing through his body. The plead, the agony, the want for fullness. Fullness in every sense of the word. Fullness of his life, his emotions, his belly...just feeling completely whole again. Then again...had he ever been whole to start with?

There was a certain peace to this method. The peace of not being teased. The peace of looking better. Exercising never did him any good. So, this was the next best thing. And it was working. It was working wonderfully and he loved every minute of it. It was nearly psychotic.

Tim wanted to be good. Not good like in the sense of _being_. He wanted to _feel_ good and be good in the way that he looked and felt good all over nearly all the time. He wanted to be good _enough_. For the team, for himself...for Tony. He wanted to be good _enough._ And his good enough always seemed to fail. He had to try harder. He had to be good enough all around. Nearly perfect...but not exactly. Nobody can be perfect, and Tim had come to that realization a long time ago. Good enough was the next best place to be.

Rolling over, curling up, Tim opened his eyes. His stomach was hurting him more than usual today and he blamed his overactive mind. He kept telling himself only a few more days of putting up with this, and he'd be fine. Of course that was a lie. You simply cannot get over starving yourself in less than a week and expect the world to be fine around you. You may get to your goal weight, but how you keep it is the tricky part. Some forget about it and waste away to death. Others just gave up and ate. Tim was wedged in between those two spots. He had no idea what he was going to do when he hit his wanted weight of one-ten. Although he had to congratulate himself on dropping from his usual one-thirty. He couldn't remember the last time he'd weighed less than that. Probably was around high school/college.

Tim wanted to pin all the blame on Tony. He really did. But he couldn't. Because it wasn't all completely Tony's fault. It was his own. For believing everything he'd ever heard about himself in his entire lifetime. He'd tried so hard not to, getting self-help things and trying to find someone who would love him romantically. Heck, he'd even hoped that joining NCIS would make him a stronger, better man. It had a little bit. But then Tony showed up in his life and the pain started all over again. He knew it was teasing, but he was the type of person who couldn't take it when it got to be too much for him to bear. This was now his breaking point. And nobody even knew it.

A tear rolled down his cheek slowly as he came to his realizations. He was killing himself slowly. He was going to die if he kept this up. And at the rate of his deteriorzation and the lack of noticing from anybody, he'd die _soon_. Then what? Tim didn't want to think about it, but he knew that's just what was going to happen if something didn't surface.

It's not that he didn't want help. Quite the opposite. By doing this, he was also trying to cry out for help. It wasn't his fault that nobody took two seconds to notice him. Maybe if he was more drastic about it...

Closing his eyes again, Tim hugged his pillow to his head curling up under his covers. He wanted so much and wasn't getting any of it. It all seemed so pointless the more he thought about it. And it hurt emotionally and physically. Starting to cry out loud, Tim slammed into a brick wall he didn't want to hit again.

He would never be good enough.

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**Finished and just shy of 3:07AM and about ready to fall asleep. Am I good or am I good?**

**Leave comments please! =)**

**Jay**


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